


Bad Hair Day

by Loveismyrevolution



Series: Hairy Situations at 221B [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Pandemic - Freeform, Quarantine, Sherlock Holmes and Experiments, Sherlock is bored, hair disaster(s), how do I even tag this, just some humour during crazy days, to spread some happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:00:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23201329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loveismyrevolution/pseuds/Loveismyrevolution
Summary: This is what happens when one bored Consulting Detective is left alone while John Watson has to go out to do the shopping during a pandemic quarantine. Experiment? Disguise? Whatever... John isn't very delighted about Sherlock's new look...
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: Hairy Situations at 221B [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1691965
Comments: 31
Kudos: 65
Collections: Isolated Johnlock Collection





	Bad Hair Day

**Author's Note:**

> A silly idea in a certain chat with friends resulted in a very awful edit only to then develop a life of it's own and inspire the headcanon for this "oh no, they're in quarantine" fic  
>   
> I hope it will bring some joy during these crazy days! Stay home and stay safe everybody!!!

“Oh my God, Sherlock!!! What have you done???” John screamed.

He had just entered the flat, getting back from his grocery shopping marathon. He had had to visit five (5!!) stores to get the most basic shopping done and he still hadn’t found any toilet paper. Same with the flour and eggs. So no pancakes or scrambled eggs for breakfast. He had been lucky to get hold of the last cans of baked beans in the second store he had been in and some toast, even if only the thin sliced one, in the fourth. 

“What have you done to your _hair?_ ” 

“It’s a disguise, John.” said the Consulting Detective, currently launching in his chair, totally unaffected.

“A disguise?” John asked, puzzled.

“Yes. That thing where you try not to be recognised when on a case? Remember?” Sherlock didn’t even look up.

“Yes, you berk, I perfectly know what a… oh, for fucks sake.” John growled, annoyed that he once again fell for Sherlock’s banter. 

“We can’t even go out, Sherlock!” He shouted. “We’re in _quarantine_!”

“One can never start early enough to prepare, John. This is hardly something I could have accomplished on a whim. I had to try out the different methods to find the most effective way to…,” Sherlock started his explanation in the most scientific voice.

“How did you even do that? Jeez…,” John couldn’t believe his eyes. He ran a hand through his own hair, still staring in horror.

“If you wouldn’t interrupt me, John.” Sherlock now looked at him sternly. “First I tried the lemon method…”

“The… lemon method?” John said flatly.

“ _John_!” Sherlock, now annoyed.

“Yeah. Right. Sorry. Go on!”

“As I said…,” berating look at John, “... the lemon method first. In the beginning I used the juice of the adviced three lemons…”

“Three?” John shouted.

 _“JOHN!”_ Sherlock yelled.

“Sorry. Sorry.”

“Yes, _three_ ! But it didn’t have the desired effect, so I also used the rest of them considering my hair is… _was_ … quite dark.”

“All of them?” John asked, horrified.

“Yes.”

“You _do_ know that shopping is one fucking hell at the moment, right?” John stemmed his hands on his hips. Sherlock only looked at him. “No. No, of course you don’t…”

“They _did_ serve an important scientific research, John.”

“Yeah, right.” John chuckled, slightly amused.

“Still, they didn’t achieve anything, John! What sort of idiots would spread such unscientific information, John?” Sherlock seemed to be still upset.

“Yes, how dare they…,” John said, eyes wide, barely able to contain a grin.

"You really are not taking this seriously!" Sherlock sulked.

“Come on, go on you!” John couldn’t help laughing at this point. “I won’t interrupt anymore.”

Disbelieving glare.

“Promise!” John held two fingers up, grinned.

“Silly,” Sherlock huffed but carried on talking anyway. “Well then, after my hair had dried and still no significant effect was visible I tried out the treatment with benzalkonium chloride. Despite better knowledge I held some hope for the effect of the chloride components. It was worth a try,” he shrugged.

“And _where_ exactly did you get that from?” John, already suspicious, asked with clenched teeth.

“Hand sanitiser.” 

“ _You fucking used the_ …,” John now outright screamed at Sherlock, both hands in fists. He turned, growled, huffed, turned back, and snarled, “You. Used. The. Hand. Sanitiser?”

Small nod.

“All of it?”

Small nod.

 _“Jesus Christ, Sherlock!!!”_ John didn’t know what to do with himself anymore. “We’re having a fucking pandemic out there. We’re supposed to follow the strictest hygiene precautions. Which means… we have to _sanitise our fucking hands!!!”_

“You’re swearing quite a lot, John.”

“Holy…,” John grunted. 

"John, don’t be that dramatic.”

John locked at Sherlock in disbelief, eyes wide as saucers. Sherlock pretended not to notice.

“As you stated correctly, we’re in quarantine. Which means, we don’t have any social contact except to the inhabitants of this house, whose germs are spread through the whole space anyway. Using sanitiser would be a waste of important substances.”

“You don’t say…,” John didn’t believe his ears. “I’m the one going out, Sherlock, doing the shopping. Touching stuff, stuff that other people touched and which is now stored in our cupboards. Which you’re touching, too… Seriously, Sherlock… how can someone like you be this stupid?!” He was really getting angry.

“We can use that illegally distilled corn schnapps the one client gave us. Alcohol works much better anyway…”

"Not the point, Sherlock.” John insisted.

“However, it was a disappointment anyway. Waste of time.” Sherlock made a dismissive hand gesture.

“Waste of…,” John barely held it together.

“What really did it in the end was the peroxide.” Sherlock beamed proudly.

“Which you got…,” John actually didn’t want to know.

“Cleaner.” Sherlock said cheerily.

John closed his eyes in defeat, rubbed one hand over his face.

“You are aware that…,” his voice small.

“Same reasoning as with the hand sanitiser, John. Do keep up.” Sherlock said bored, as if John were the one not getting the point.

“Sherlock… what about Mrs Hudson?” John tried to play his last card to bring the Consulting Idiot to some sense of reason.

“Is a tough one…,” was the only answer.

“But she’s old!”

“Don’t let her hear that.”

“And she’s got a hip…”

“What has that to do with anything?” Sherlock squeaked and raised a questioning eyebrow at John. “What kind of doctor _are_ you, John?”

John threw his arms up in helplessness. He walked into the kitchen, put on the kettle, first choice of activity to regain some composure. He switched the kettle off again, turned, squinted his eyes.

“And what about the rest?” He waggled his hand above his own head. He still couldn’t wrap his mind around it.

“Borrowed Mrs Hudson's largest hair curlers.”

John snorted. Just the idea. Sherlock sitting in the living room, hair curlers in place… 

“But they’re supposed to _curl_ the hair, no?” 

“Not in combination of the length of my hair with that size of curlers. Basic knowledge, John.”

“Of course.” John felt like being dumped into an absurd parallel universe. 

“Plus securing the hair with pins afterwards while sprinkling them with a solution of milk, oil and hair gel. But don’t worry, I used your cheap one. It’s rubbish anyway.”

John swallowed. Speechless. Tried not to break down and lose his mind. He had gone through a lot with his mad flatmate, his best friend, his partner. But this? 

“And why…,” He cleared his throat, “... the shaving?”

“To complete the look. Obvious.” Sherlock sat there, proud like a peacock. “Isn’t it awesome, John?”

John only whimpered and went back to preparing tea. He tried to keep breathing as normal, tried to avoid a fit of hysteria. He succeeded, close call.

  
*****

  
Later when they sat across from each other at the kitchen table when John had calmed down a bit, he dared to look a bit closer at his boyfriend.

Hair bleached, straightened, combed to the forehead, thinned out. Forehead _shaved_!!! Gone the glorious dark curls. John sighed, grieved the curls to sink his fingers in while... he cleared his throat. Sherlock looked up.

“You still don’t like it?” he asked as if that was a mystery to him.

“You _are_ aware that this is permanent, right?”

“Of course. I’m not stupid, John.”

“No?” John couldn’t help to counter. Sherlock only glared at him. “It’s awful, Sherlock! Really really awful!! It hurts my eyes! I can’t even look at you!!” John ranted. “Let alone…”

“You _are_ looking at me now, though.” Sherlock looked at John from under his lashes, well aware that John could _never_ resist, not even now.

“Oh, don’t go all smart on me. You know what I mean.” John took a sip of his tea. “And to use up all our disinfectant supplies. Where do you think we’ll get new ones from? They're all out! _Everywhere_!”

“John… think it over. My moron of a brother has to be good for _something…_ ,” Sherlock looked smug. Corner of his mouth twitching.

John paused. Huffed. Set down his cup of tea.

“You…,” he looked at Sherlock’s with mischief twinkling eyes. “You absolut… prick! You… bastard!!” John alternated between shouting and laughing. 

“I’m sorry, John…,” Sherlock giggled, “but it was worth it!” He laughed, tears rolling down his cheeks. “Your face…”

John slowly calmed down, looked adoringly at Sherlock, despite everything. This madman was just… unique, completely insane. And the best thing that could have happened to him.

“The order with new stock of everything will be delivered this evening.” Sherlock smirked.

John huffed. They drank their tea in silence until John’s teacup suddenly stopped mid air.

“Wait… if Mycroft can…,” he frowned, “...why do I have to roam the whole city to do our shopping?” he looked quizzically at Sherlock.

“Because you're just adorable when you’re annoyed.” Sherlock rumbled.

“Oi…” 

They laughed, enjoyed each other’s company, the intimacy of their own little island of warmth and coziness and love in midst of a world gone crazy. In his totally insane way Sherlock had known exactly what John needed. Forgotten were empty shelves, forgotten were restrictions to leave the house, forgotten was the anxiety slowly creeping in. They were together, they were home.

*****

_“SHERLOCK!!!”_ John’s voice rang through the flat the next morning.

John stomped into the living room, still dripping wet from the shower, only clad in a towel around his hips.

“What have you done to my shampoo???” John breathed heavily.

Sherlock looked up, scanned him, unbothered.

“Just a bit of adjustment of the formula.”

“Look at my _hair_!!” John gestured wildly at his head. Horrified.

His hair, sticking out in all directions, fuzzy, matted, ridiculously tousled. 

Sherlock grinned like the cat that got the cream. 

“Now we are the perfect match, don’t you think?”

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> and here's the legendary "very awful edit", for those who don't know it yet... I'm immensely sorry!!! For complaints (... or just for a chat!! 💜) you can find me as [loveismyrevolution on tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/loveismyrevolution)


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